Chapter 25
Trove
This was such a bad idea. This was never going to work. She was going to see, she was going to understand, she was going to judge and ridicule him for the truth he would no longer be able to hide from her.
But if he couldn’t speak with his tongue, let him speak with his body.
If any of the others noticed them sneaking away, no one made any comment on it. Trove took Chee by the hand and led her up and out of main storage, into the halls of the ship.
One of the benefits of building the Vainglory by themselves was that they had been able to design literally everything.
Including their own private rooms. There were limitations on size, of course, but they had been able to do nearly whatever they wanted within that limitation. They could make it however they liked.
Trove’s only real preference was that of comfort.
His room was a private space where no one but himself ever needed to go.
It was not a place he brought females. His crewmates were welcome, sure, but they never had reason to go there, so they likely wouldn’t go.
It was his personal retreat from the world, and it was built to be exactly that.
Trove had put his room near the center of the ship, forsaking any exterior windows. He didn’t want them anyway. He liked the feeling of being enclosed. It was comforting, in a strange way. Like he was sealed inside, and therefore nothing could touch him.
Dim, shadowed – it resembled Rinnicks’ chamber in that way.
But where hers was like a bower, filled with draped curtains and deep fog, his was spartan.
No drapes, no sensuous smoke, no fluffy nest of pillows.
He had a standard pod bed, the kind all starships used because they could seal in event of a hull rupture and protect the occupant inside.
But it had one blanket, no pillows, and no excessive comfort.
There were no sweet perfumes, no incense, no softness anywhere.
There were shelves in the wall for his clothing, a desk for him to work at, and the sealed door to his privy.
That was it.
A place no female could possibly find comfortable. It was less welcoming even than their guest room – and he knew that because he helped decorate both. No fripperies, no decoration, no softness, no pleasant smells, nothing at all to nest with.
It was almost uncomfortable. And that was what he found comfort in.
When he looked back to see her reaction however, Chee’s face was blank. She was looking around, but there was nothing in her expression to say what she was thinking. And as he watched, she finished her inspection and focused back on him.
And gave him a smile that was full of nerves.
“I, er, haven’t done this before,” she reminded him. “I’m not really sure what to do.”
Trove chuckled and pulled her by the hands to his bed.
“You do nothing. You let me do it.”
“I mean, I want to learn how,” she insisted, giving him no resistance as he stood her there at the side of his bed. “I want to give you pleasure too.”
“The only thing you are to learn right now is your own body. You have given yourself pleasure, have you not?”
And though it was dark, he could see the heat rising in her pretty face as she admitted, “I mean, of course. I’m a virgin, not a prude. But that’s not the same…”
“Sure it is.” He reached his hands up and put his fingers on her shoulders.
Slowly, he dragged them down. Just barely touching her.
A soft caress. A primer to prepare her body for what it was like to be touched by another.
“You are used to your own hands. You know how best to touch yourself. Which means you are used to responding only to yourself. It will be strange and different to be touched by me.”
“That’s… true…” she muttered, her eyes following his hands as he took hers and lifted them to his lips.
He took his time kissing the tips of her fingers.
Down the inside of each knuckle, then to her palms. She would be used to people touching her hands, but not the inside of them.
This was already different and because of that it would already feel more intimate.
It was all carefully planned and calculated on his end.
Her nerves would be up now. And those nerves would make it harder for her to relax and enjoy his touch.
Which, in turn, would make it harder for her to actually feel any pleasure from this experience.
If he rushed, if he grabbed for her, if he met her uncertainty with burning passion, he’d overwhelm her.
But if he took his time, if he nurtured the fires of her desire like a hesitant, flickering flame into a burning, blazing wildfire, she’d come apart in his hands. She’d sing for him. She’d scream for him. She would be his to control and command and direct.
He controlled her pleasure, and through that he controlled her.
It was practiced, calculated, easy.
Trove kept her focused on the feel of his lips as he kissed along her inner wrist. Distracting her from the way his other hand snuck around the back of her dress and pressed the seal. So, when it loosened around her, it was almost a surprise.
When she jumped and immediately grabbed the falling fabric, holding it to her chest to protect her modesty, he allowed her to do so.
And in exchange, he took her by the face and kissed her.
Claiming her lips, controlling their kiss.
Distracting her again, tracing his tongue against her lips until slowly, hesitantly, she opened to him.
All the while, his hands were moving back, getting lost in the wild, loose curls of her hair.
He freed the strands from their loose confines, setting them free and massaging her scalp.
Keeping all of her focus above her neck so she forgot that, with her dress undone, she was nearly naked in front of a stranger for the first time.
It was all so familiar.
But still different and new.
Because this wasn’t an uneasy sex worker, new to the business, who the others had set up with him so he could ease her into the life.
This was Chee. His Chee. Truly untouched but deserving of all the pleasure his hands could give. She didn’t taste like other females. She didn’t feel like other females.
He… honestly didn’t expect that.
Like a sparkling liquor, dancing upon his tongue, the taste of her made him drunk.
He sought to drink more from her as he tried to remember to keep his hands moving.
To never let her get used to something so her thoughts could arise and sabotage his attempts at relaxing and arousing her at the same time.
Not that it was any great hardship to touch her.
He found it harder to keep his hands under control.
To keep them following his planned path because they kept itching to move everywhere, to touch her everywhere.
To feel more of her softness. Her roughness.
Her anything. He didn’t care, so long as it was her under his palms.
It was strange.
He had never experienced that with any other female before. Sure, they were soft. But there wasn’t really an urge to keep touching them. No great effort to restrain himself to the paths he knew would bring him what he wanted.
There was even an interesting edge of enjoyment to this that he didn’t expect. Almost fun. Feeling the way she shivered. Hearing the way she moaned. The pressure of her leaning against him. The hesitancy but bravery in her touch as she cautiously reached for him all made him shiver.
With unease.
Reaching down, he took hold of her waist and lifted her up and into his bed. Without breaking the kiss, he lowered her down. She grabbed onto his shoulders, and that was okay, because that was just for stability. And he didn’t mind her stabilizing herself against him.
But when she tried to caress him in turn…
Taking her by the wrists, he brought her hands to his lips and, against, kissed them reverently. He gave her a smile as he placed them onto the bed beside her head.
“Keep these here,” he ordered, pleased by the expression he found on her face. Breathless, lips puffy, cheeks red, eyes glistening.
“But…” she tried to protest, her breast heaving.
“I know.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “But you’re learning to accept my touch, not your own. So, keep your hands away from us both. Just feel. That’s all you need to do. Accept this pleasure I give you.”
It was a bedroom game, and not an uncommon one. She hesitated only a moment before nodding and turning her hands, gripping his blanket tightly. A means of keeping her hands where he had placed them.
Good. Now, he could focus.
With her arms up and out of the way, there was nothing to keep her loosened dress on any longer. He slowly pulled on the hem, kissing and adoring each new piece of skin exposed to his mouth until he came to her nipple.
Small, dark, and already pointed. Begging for attention that he was all too happy to give.
A twist of his tongue, a hint of his teeth, until he figured out exactly how she liked to be touched.
Using her reactions, her sounds, to fine tune his technique until he had her squirming and pressing her body up against him. Silently begging him for more.
He had her primed. Out of her head. Focused only on him, on the feelings he was creating in her. He had control over her. He had control over her pleasure, and so he controlled her.
And the more pleasure she experienced, the more control he had.
While he played with her breasts, teasing and pulling at her nipples, he used his free hand to slowly pull her dress down and off her body. Distracting her, again, keeping her focus only on her feelings and away from her newly exposed body.
He slid his hands around her thighs and pulled them apart.
At the same time, he began kissing his way down her belly.
Adoring the sweet roundness of it. He shouldn’t, it wasn’t for her pleasure, but he bit her there, just beside her belly button.
Leaving a mark of his teeth in her skin that he didn’t think would do anything for her – she hadn’t responded greatly to his teeth on her nipples – but which sent a thrill down his spine that was extremely unfamiliar.
And she jumped, but she didn’t protest. When he glanced up, he caught the shine of her eyes looking back at him. It was approving, deep desire that shined there, so he hadn’t made a misstep. But he didn’t repeat the action, no matter how much he wanted to.
Focus on her. Only on her.
Her pleasure. His control.
Human bodies were unfamiliar to him, but he met her slit eager to taste, to learn more. And he was a quick study when it came to these things.
Inside her lips were thinner, smaller lips that draped around her hole like beautiful petals.
They spread out from a central point at the top that caught his eye immediately.
It was both darker than the surrounding flesh and pulsing with desire.
A female’s pleasure was usually internal, but he knew a few that had theirs externally.
And it only took a flick of his tongue to get a reaction from Chee to let him know which she had.
Well, that made his task so much easier.
Just like her nipples, he began working that bundle of nerves with his tongue, his lips, even his teeth, trying to find exactly what combination of movements, pressure, and stimulus made her react the strongest. Her hips bucked, her voice cried, her muscles shivered.
And he controlled her. Just like this, he found his greatest strength, his true purpose in life. It all felt right.
Maybe they could do this. Maybe this could work between them. If he pleased her. If things could be just like this between them…
As he worked his mouth, he used his fingers to begin applying pressure at her entrance. She was untested there. If he just shoved his fingers inside her, he could get her flesh accustomed to him quickly, but if he took his time, she’d enjoy the stretching process more.
And that was what this was about. Her enjoyment. Her pleasure. Her release.
His control over all of it.
Her hips were rocking into his face now. Moving faster and faster. Grinding against his nose, his chin, seeking more pressure. He adjusted his tongue accordingly, sucking on her bundle of nerves instead. She broke with a scream and a rush of fluids against his probing finger.
And she grabbed him by the head.
She wasn’t a prostitute. He wasn’t paying her. Just because he gave her an order to keep her hands up and off of him didn’t mean she’d obey.
His name was on her lips, crying out, her thighs trying to clench around his face, her fingers slid into his hair, digging into his scalp.
She was grabbing him, touching him, touching him.
Taking his control.
“No!” Trove ripped away from her. So quickly, she came up on her butt as he threw himself away from her. He hit his desk with a grunt as she stayed reaching for him, confused.
“Trove?” She called to him, hurt and confusion in her voice. Her thighs were still shaking, the pleasure he’d given her still rushing through her body. “Are you okay?”
He couldn’t breathe. His heart was pounding. His lungs were burning. His gut clenching. He was going to throw up.
“Trove?” Chee called to him again, but he could barely hear her over the rushing of blood in his ears.
She was up now, reaching for him. He was frozen. So cold. Like ice was in his veins.
“Are you okay?” She asked, her voice echoing so oddly. “Did I do something wrong? Did I…”
She was looking down now, frowning as she looked between them. At the front of his pants where his cock remained flat, soft, unmoving. She was confused, he could tell.
“Did you not like it?” She looked up at him, no doubt wondering why he wasn’t reacting to her. Why he wasn’t burning with desire for her.
Why his cock refused to harden, even for her, his mate.
“Trove-” She reached for him, trying to touch his chest.
“Stop!” He smacked her hand away.
She gasped, reeling back. He stilled. Disgust, towards himself this time, filling his belly like a sickly poison.
He’d struck her. His own mate. He’d struck her!
Chee looked at her hand, then at him, but he couldn’t stand it. He couldn’t meet her gaze. He couldn’t see the hatred that he very well deserved.
No, this wouldn’t work. This could never work. She wasn’t a prostitute that would do whatever he told her to. She’d always reach for him. He’d never have full control.
He did the only thing he could think to do.
He ran.